Ranger of the North
by Katerinaki
Summary: "I have a sworn duty to protect these lands. I cannot leave them, but I will help Thorin Oakenshield pass through them safely." Gandalf recruits a rather reluctant Ranger for the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, but will Thorin accept her help? *Not a romance!*
1. Chapter 1: Introductions

Ranger of the North

By: Katerinaki

Published: 9/10/2014

Beta'ed: No

Notes: I've been sitting on this story for a little while, since I saw the second Hobbit film. It's not finished and you know my track record thus far, but I'd still like to know what people think. There are far too many Mary-Sues in the Tolkien-verse and this is my first foray. I'd like to create a viable character. I can only do that with feedback. Thanks.

Chapter 1: Introductions

For nearly a fortnight, she'd tracked the small pack of orcs over the rough terrain of the foothills as it gave way to ancient forests and at last the rolling hills and pastures of the Shire. She should not have let them journey so far, but the weather had been miserable and Bruidal had slipped a shoe. She'd been forced to stop and pay a village blacksmith an undue amount of money to fix it. In the meantime the orcs had left a trail of bones and filth in their wake so wide that even a child could have followed it. If it wasn't for their arrogance and the stupidity of orcs, Arindeth might have lost them. But these orcs had remained unchallenged since their descent from the North. It was a testament to how thin her people were spread; enemies were beginning to slip through their patrols.

At last she caught up to them on the road south, not far from Overhill. They were lying in wait, setting a trap for an unfortunate traveler. Arindeth rode Bruidal as close as she dared before leaving the horse behind in favor of stealth. Under the shadows of the trees, Arindeth crept closer, her bow in hand and her sword loosened in its sheath. There were six of them, three on either side of the road. They snarled to each other in the Black Speech and Arindeth gritted her teeth against the harsh, guttural sounds. They seemed to be arguing, but Arindeth was not so well-versed in the tongue of the enemy to understand what the topic was.

She was about to slip closer, intent on quickly and quietly dispatching those closest to her before confronting the rest of the pack on the other side of the road. But as she prepared an arrow on her bow she heard the gentle clip-clop-clip-clop of a pony trotting down the road. Hobbits, the small and gentle Halflings of the Shire, rode ponies on the few occasions they journeyed beyond their own front doors. Horses were generally too big for them. The orcs sneered at each other and tensed, anticipating an easy target. As the pony and its rider rounded the bend, Arindeth had only a moment to decide her course of action. She loosed the arrow in her bow and it struck the first orc in the back. It fell dead into the road, surprising the traveler, but Arindeth was already aiming for the next orc, this one on the far side of the road, brandishing a gruesome axe. She struck the orc in the neck and it fell, gurgling on its own black blood. The closest to her had realized by then that they were not alone. They had forgotten their ambush and rushed her, snarling and growling and brandishing their own crude blades. Arindeth drew her sword and in a fast sweep, decapitated the first orc to reach her. She side-stepped the next, moving out on the road to avoid its wild swing. She took the orc's hand with a flick of her wrist and buried her sword in its gut. Fluidly spinning, she drew an arrow, but was surprised to find the last two orcs already lying dead. The traveler who stood over their corpses with a thick sword in hand was no hobbit. There was no mistaking the strong, stocky build or the expert craftsmanship of the sword and armor.

The dwarf turned on her, sword raised and prepared to defend. Arindeth did not lower her bow. No dwarf cut his beard; it was considered a mark of shame and dishonor. And yet, this dwarf had hardly a beard at all. His clothing and weapons were of impressive quality for an outcast. Perhaps he was a thief.

"Why is a dwarf traveling in the Shire, one may wonder?" Arindeth said gruffly.

The dwarf looked on her with suspicion, and rightly so. She was dressed in a gray cowl and a cloth covered her face, hiding her nose and mouth. He refused to lower his weapon and Arindeth prepared to do what she must, but something stayed her arrow. She saw something in his bearing and the gleam of his eye that made her second guess her first conclusions. She'd seen the same sort of quiet dignity in another who remained in hiding. When he spoke, he spoke with intelligence, but cautiousness.

"I would wonder the same. Why is a_ woman_ hunting a pack of orcs alone in the Shire, dressed as a vagabond?"

Arindeth inclined her head. "A fair question," she conceded. Slowly she lowered her bow and retrieved her sword from the body of the orc, carefully wiping it of the putrid, black blood before returning it to her belt. The dwarf watched her every move carefully, making his own assumptions no doubt, just as she'd made hers. He did not lower his own sword but rather held it before him warily.

"I have been tracking them for a fortnight. They came down from the mountains. My people protect these lands." Arindeth bent down, intent on learning where exactly these orcs had come from when she noticed something she had not seen before. Tucked into a pouch at the orc's belt was a scrap of paper. The words on it were written in the Black Speech and although she could not read it, she knew someone who could. She tucked the paper into her cloak and set about piling the carcasses. If left, they would rot the ground. They must be burned.

"What are you doing?" the dwarf asked, incredulous.

"Ensuring their filth does not spread." She took her flint and started a spark on some dried twigs and grass. Setting it to the orcs, the fire quickly spread up the pile and began consuming the remains. The air filled with an acrid smoke and a stench that would linger for days after. Arindeth and the dwarf moved away from the fire.

"You still have yet to tell me who you are," Arindeth said at last, turning her back on the flames and facing the dwarf once more.

He hesitated still. "I am a dwarf from the Blue Mountains," he said at last, "and my business is my own."

Arindeth was becoming more than a little frustrated in his obstinacy, but doubted she would be able to get any more information from him. She had more pressing matters anyway. The message burned in her cloak; her people needed to know what it said. Perhaps it would explain the sudden influx of orcs in the North.

"If your business is so urgent then it is best you go about it. But do not linger in these lands. They are peaceful and will remain as such, so long as I draw breath."

The dwarf could not hide his surprise in her tenacity but he quickly narrowed his eyes and nodded his understanding. "You have my word, I am merely passing through."

He called his pony to him and surprisingly enough it came. With one last acknowledgment, the dwarf was off, continuing down the road. Arindeth waited only until he was beyond her sight before calling Bruidal to her. The chestnut trotted to her and nudged her in the shoulder, snuffling her as if to determine if she was injured or not. This time, though, Arindeth was unscathed. She swung up into the saddle and turned east. If orcs were carrying messages and strange dwarves were passing through the Shire, then she had business with a wizard and there was one place he frequented enough to find him.

Bree was a small village of men located on the east-west road just outside the Shire. It was so close to the home of the hobbits that it was not uncommon to see Halflings amongst the Big-folk, as men were called. Arindeth had only been to Bree once before, but upon her first visit she made the acquaintance of an old man dressed entirely in gray. He was called Gandalf and he revealed himself as one of the Five Wizards, the Istari charged with watching over Middle Earth. He seemed quite meddlesome to Arindeth when she'd first met him and as she sat in the common room of the Prancing Pony with her hood drawn, sitting across the table from the same old man in gray, he seemed much the same. The message she'd taken from the orc pack many days ago sat on the table between them next to another, identical message. The second Gandalf had produced when she revealed the first.

"What does this mean?" she asked quietly, eyeing both messages.

"The dwarf you met on the road, what was he like?"

"Dark-haired, quite tall for a dwarf. His beard was cut and he said he was from the Blue Mountains." Gandalf nodded as he puffed on his pipe and Arindeth realized, "You know of whom I speak. Who was he?"

"What do you know of the dwarfs who live in the Blue Mountains?"

Arindeth pushed back her annoyance at Gandalf's continued reluctance to speak candidly. It was the way of a wizard, apparently, to never say anything straightforward.

"They mine iron and other lesser metals."

"And who leads them?"

"The Longbeard clan. Thorin son of Thrain who was—"suddenly she understood.

"King under the Mountain," Gandalf finished, "the King in Erebor."

Now she understood why the dwarf she'd come across seemed strange to her. He was not a thief as she once thought, but he was in exile, which explained his cut beard. The dwarves had been forced to flee Erebor many years before Arindeth had even been born. They wandered, eventually making a new home in the Blue Mountains. Thorin, with his father Thrain and grandfather Thror, had once ruled over the greatest dwarf kingdom of Middle Earth. His clothing, appearance, crisp speech and mistrustful tendencies all seemed reasonable now. But Arindeth still did not understand why the King of the Blue Mountains would be travelling alone through the Shire and Gandalf had yet to reveal what the messages said.

"These messages I have come across a number of times in recent days," Gandalf admitted, his hand straying to the paper but not touching it. "They are a promise of payment for the head of Thorin son of Thrain."

At this Arindeth was spurred into action. "We must warn him then."

But Gandalf had already raised a hand, urging her to sit again. "Thorin knows; I made sure of that."

"Then why is he still abroad, rather than back in the Blue Mountains where he is safe?"

"Because Thorin is gathering a company to undertake a very important and potentially dangerous quest. What do you know of Erebor?"

Arindeth could not suppress her sigh this time. With orcs roaming the Shire looking for a lone dwarf, there were more important things than another history lesson.

"It's called the Lonely Mountain. It lies far to the east, beyond the Greenwood. It is abandoned. The dragon Smaug makes his lair there and he guards the wealth of Erebor viciously."

"Except Smaug has not been seen in nearly fifty years. Eyes are beginning to turn to Erebor, including those of Thorin and his company, as well as the enemy. Thorin intends to take back Erebor and I have promised to help him."

Arindeth was used impossible tasks. As a Ranger she often took on duties that were more than what most men could handle, let alone a young woman, barely into her majority. Although she always seemed to manage to pull through, there was a limit to what she would attempt. Retaking the ancient dwarf city from a centuries-old, fire-breathing dragon was one of those things even she would not attempt.

"That is madness," she hissed. "Even with an army it would be foolish, and something tells me you are not intending to bring an army."

"No, we are not."

"Then you are intending on stealth. Why are you telling me all this? If stealth is your mission, then it is best fewer know of this quest."

"Because I believe you may help."

And so Arindeth finally understood why Gandalf answered her summons so quickly and what he had been leading her to this whole evening as they sat at a private table in the Prancing Pony. He had a task for her, one that was probably dangerous and should be undertaken by six men, and yet she would be expected to do it alone.

"I believe that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield would greatly benefit by your presence."

Arindeth snorted. "I am merely a ranger, Gandalf, and not the greatest nor the most experienced."

"No, but you are well acquainted with these lands, as well as those east of the mountains. You are an accomplished tracker and experienced healer but most importantly you tend to _think_ before you act, which is something I fear this company will be severely lacking."

"I thought that is why _you_ are helping them," Arindeth smirked.

"But I will not be able to remain with them throughout their quest. As you can see, there are greater forces at work here." He gestured to the messages.

Arindeth was still reluctant to agree to such a quest. She was a ranger. Her place was not with a company of dwarves on a fool's errand to the east. It was here, safeguarding the north with her kin as her father and grandfather had before her. That was her mission, not the reclaiming of Erebor.

Gandalf sensed her reluctance, much as he seemed to sense everything. He leaned in closer and his voice dropped. "You have noticed the increase in orc activity. Darkness is beginning to stir; these troubles are only the beginning of it. If the enemy were to bring Smaug to its side, to claim the wealth of Erebor for its own, the destruction would be like nothing seen since the dawn of the Third Age. Thorin's quest, however impossible it may seem, must succeed. He cannot do it alone."

Arindeth sighed heavily. How could she continue to refuse when Gandalf seemed so determined to convince her? If what he said was true, then he was right. Thorin _would_ need help, and Arindeth was sworn to protect Middle Earth from all evils. Her hand reached up and she lightly brushed the eight-point star pinned to her gray cloak. It was the only adornment she or any of her fellow rangers wore. It reminded them of their duty.

"I cannot," she finally said. "I have a sworn duty to protect these lands. I cannot leave them, but I will help Thorin Oakenshield pass through them safely. Where is he gathering his company?"

Gandalf did not seem disappointed in her words. He merely nodded and puffed on his pipe. "Ten days hence at a home in Hobbiton. You'll know it by the mark on the door. Supper will be served."

Arindeth nodded. She placed some coin on the table for her food and stood to go. But just before she left, she paused and turned back to Gandalf.

"If stealth is your mission, I presume you have a way of getting _into_ the mountain, yes?"

"Of course," Gandalf replied.

"Surely I was not the one expected to slip inside?"

"No," Gandalf assured her and he smiled fondly. "I have a very special person in mind for that."

Ten days hence found Arindeth once more within the boundaries of the Shire, this time travelling by the road towards the central town of the Shire, Hobbiton. It was rare that Arindeth ventured so far into the Shire, and so she received many suspicious, pointed looks from the hobbits she passed along the way. They would look up from their sweeping and gardening as she came up the road and seem first surprised by Bruidal's size, and then their eyes would take in her travel-worn clothing and partially concealed face. Then they would shake their heads and more than a few mothers would usher their children inside. She was most obviously a disturber of the peace and the least contact the better, in any respectable hobbit's opinion. Arindeth for her part ignored the looks and obvious lack of welcome. She was used to it. There were very few places in the north where Rangers like her were welcome. Most of the time they were met with scorn and distrust. When Arindeth had first begun patrolling it had bothered her. She knew many a Ranger who had given his or her lives so that the very same people who turned them away might live in peace. The longer she roamed, the less it affected her, but she still noticed it everywhere she went.

The hobbits did not stop her, for all their sour looks. Arindeth rode through Hobbiton, looking for a door with a mark on it that might indicate the location of Thorin's meeting. The sun was going down and the doors were set into the hillsides and generally difficult to see. Hobbiton was not as large as some towns that she had seen in her lifetime, but it was sprawling and Arindeth soon found herself riding in circles down winding little paths, still not seeing the door with the mark. The stars were appearing in the sky overhead and the moon shone down on her and still she wandered, beginning to feel frustration. Surely Gandalf had told her the proper time and location. She was about to climb down from Bruidal's back and ask one of the gossip-mongers by the corner when she heard the clanking of iron and deep mutters that did not sound like hobbit voices. Sure enough, just around the bend of the next path were two dwarves, tromping up the hill to a lone hobbit hole at the end of the road. Ahead of them were three more dwarves and yet more further from those. If the presence of dwarves didn't give away the location of the gathering, the small mark at the bottom of the door, gleaming softly in the low light, would've told Arindeth she had finally found what she was looking for.

Arindeth eyed the hill and the freshly trimmed garden that framed the neat and tidy hobbit hole. She climbed down from Bruidal's back. "Maybe it is best you spend the night down here," she told her faithful horse as she took the bridle from his mouth and the saddle off his back. He happily set off into the open meadow, greedily trimming the lush, green grass. Arindeth set her tack and supplies in the shadows at the base of a nearby tree, confident they would be safe there. Hobbits, for all their lightness of foot, were not known to be thieves, and if some tried their luck, Bruidal would set them straight.

Arindeth began climbing the hill, staying well away from the dwarves up ahead. Gandalf had made it clear the secrecy of this meeting. And if she knew the wizard as she thought, it was unlikely he told them she was coming. She stayed back in the shadows as the first set of dwarves was let in by a quite startled hobbit, only for the next to come tromping up the road. They did not see her, but then dwarves were not known for their powers of observation, as they were for their skills in smithing. She stayed in the shadows for quite some time as more and more dwarves poured into the home of the poor hobbit, who seemed to be getting more and more flustered each time he opened the door. At last she saw the figure she had been hoping for. Coming up the hill riding a horse of his own and humming gently to himself as was his way, came Gandalf. He seemed only to be enjoying a ride out on a fine evening and certainly not traveling to a clandestine meeting. As he passed her temporary post, he paused.

"There is no need to hide in the shadows, my lady," he said genially. "None of those arriving to this meeting wish you any harm."

Arindeth smiled as she stepped out of the shadows, pulling the scarf from her face. "The ones to be careful of never _wish_ any harm. And I thought you valued my tendency to observe before acting."

"Indeed I do, but there are times for scouting and times for going inside before the dwarves have eaten all the food."

"Yes, I daresay there is quite a company in that house," Arindeth nodded towards the hobbit hole in question. "And your host seems overwhelmed."

Gandalf chuckled. "It will be good for him," he insisted. "Still, let's relieve him, shall we?"

Gandalf dismounted and left his horse to graze with Bruidal before the two of them climbed the hill to the hobbit door with Gandalf's mark. The most recent collection of dwarves had piled up at the door and no sooner had Gandalf and Arindeth arrived did the door open and all the dwarves spill into the entrance hall. The flustered hobbit who answered the door looked up at Gandalf and frowned.

"Gandalf," he sighed heavily giving Gandalf the same look of disapproval Arindeth had seen from his fellow hobbits.

"Good evening my dear Bilbo!" Gandalf replied heartily. He stepped around the dwarves who were righting themselves in the hallway. Arindeth hung back, just inside the door and watched the dwarves with amusement. They fussed over each other and muttered all manner of things as they straightened weapons and stomped mud off their boots in the foyer.

"Give us a hand, will you?" Arindeth reached down and helped the dwarf to his feet. He grunted and straightened his rather interesting hat. "Bofur at your service," he said, reaching out a hand only to realize that he had to reach significantly higher. When he finally looked up at Arindeth's face, his eyes were wide with astonishment.

"You're a girl," he said, flabbergasted.

"Indeed," Arindeth replied, brushing past the dwarf to follow the majority of the group towards the pantry, which was currently in the process of being pillaged. Across the way in the dining room, dwarves were gathering chairs from all corners of the hobbit hole, much to Bilbo's frustration. The hobbit bounced back and forth in futile attempts to stop them.

"Are you a friend of Gandalf's?" Bofur pressed on.

"By some standards." Arindeth found a place where she was out of the way for the most part. Gandalf stood right in the middle of it all, seeming most amused as he took count of each of the dwarves. There were so many and they were all going in different directions. Arindeth wasn't entirely sure how many were present. Bofur didn't seem to want to give it a rest, even though he'd been press-ganged into passing food across to the dining room from the pantry.

"What do you mean by that?"

Arindeth sighed. "You may consider me a friend of Gandalf's, but you only know me through Gandalf. To others who know us better we may be considered merely acquaintances or not even that."

Bofur looked confused as he handed mugs of ale across. "So you're a friend of Gandalf's," he said finally. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Arindeth inclined her head politely. "And you as well, Master Bofur." She slipped in to the dining room and took a seat near the doorway. Gandalf sat as well and the two of them looked rather out of place at the low table. To be honest Arindeth felt acutely claustrophobic in such a short house. A hobbit hole was built for a hobbit, not someone of the race of Men like Arindeth and so she found herself dipping her head as she went through doorways and crouching, even if there was plenty of room. She felt as if she was sitting at a table made for children, and perhaps she was. Certainly she'd seen better table manners from children than those of the dwarves who sat crowded around poor Mr. Bilbo's table. They were rowdy and noisy and they spewed food and ale everywhere. Food was often thrown across the room and one of the dwarves, Fili was his name, even stepped across the table to bring more ale when he and his brother Kili had run dry.

Gandalf seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the entire hubbub. He grabbed food off of plates as they went by and drank his ale with the rest of them. He smiled and laughed and when he was finished eating he took out his ever handy pipe and began smoking. Arindeth was no princess brought up in a grand hall, but she had been raised with table manners and these dwarves had none.

"Bofur tells me you are a friend of Gandalf's." The white-bearded dwarf seated next to Arindeth sat back and took a pull from his mug. "Balin, son of Fundin."

"Arindeth," she replied.

"I have not had much cause to speak to a ranger before," Balin admitted.

"Nor I a dwarf."

"It is not often we travel east. Has Gandalf shared the reason for our little gathering?"

"He did provide me with some details." Arindeth took a sip of her wine. "He thought that you would need my expertise. I know these lands better than most and which ways are safest."

Balin frowned, watching Gandalf out of the corner of his eye. "Gandalf seems to have many 'friends' who could assist us, none of whom I've met until now."

"I will not be accompanying you on the entire journey. My duty lies here in the west. I will see you to the mountains and no further."

That she would not be going all the way to Erebor with them seemed to ease Balin's worries, though he still watched her with interest out of the corner of his eye as the other dwarves cleaned the dishes with gusto and a song. Bilbo seemed about ready to keel over and Arindeth didn't know how this hobbit was meant to survive the journey to the Lonely Mountain, let alone venturing inside the lair of a dragon. Arindeth was sure Bilbo was the one Gandalf intended to send inside. Why a hobbit and not a thief, she didn't understand, but then there were many things Gandalf did that she didn't understand. It was the way of a wizard, or at least of this wizard.

The dwarves had finished cleaning the dishes and were just beginning to pull out pipes of their own when there was a great knock at the door. Could there be more dwarves still? The room grew silent as it hadn't been all night and Arindeth knew who stood at the door before they gathered in the hall to greet him. Thorin Oakenshield stepped through the door, looking much the way he had when Arindeth had encountered him on the road. His bearing was much more obvious now, though perhaps it was merely because she knew his true identity now. He greeted his dwarves with a smile, all the while complaining to Gandalf about the location of their clandestine meeting.

"I lost my way, twice," he declared, handing his cloak off. "Wouldn't have found it at all if it wasn't for the mark on the door."

Bilbo immediately protested. "There is no mark on that door; it was painted a week ago."

"Er, there is a mark on the door, my dear Bilbo. I put it there," Gandalf admitted. "May I present the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin, this is Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin's eyes swept over Bilbo's bare feet and simple clothes and seemed doubtful. "This is your burglar? Looks more like a grocer to me."

"I'm not a burglar!" Bilbo retorted.

"Have you ever fought before? Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"

"Well I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," Bilbo replied haughtily, "but I fail to see how that's…relevant."

Thorin looked up at Gandalf, unimpressed, and that was when he caught sight of Arindeth who stood just behind Gandalf. Thorin's expression immediately turned from cynical to enraged. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Oh, she's a friend of Gandalf's," Bofur replied matter-of-factly.


	2. Chapter 2: Convincing

Ranger of the North

By: Katerinaki

Published: 9/27/2014

Beta'ed: No

Notes: Here is another chapter. It's not quite as long as the last and the second half hasn't really been edited so please pardon any mistakes you see. Since I received some positive feedback for the first chapter, and since the new Hobbit movie comes out in December, I'm hoping that I can continue on with this story. I have a lot of ideas, it's just finding the time to write. Always difficult.

Cheers,

-Katerinaki

Chapter 2: Convincing

"This quest was meant to be kept in confidence, Gandalf!" Thorin's voice thundered through Bag End. Arindeth stood by the fire in the parlor. Around her a few of the other dwarves sat puffing on their pipes. They tried not to look at her, but most were failing. Arindeth had thus far remained quite anonymous throughout the dinner, despite being the second tallest person in the room. Bilbo sat perched on a stool, listening to the tirade in the other room, wincing and wringing his hands.

Balin was with Thorin, as was Gandalf and the three of them had cleared out the dining room and were using it for their not so quiet discussion. It was abundantly clear where Thorin stood, as well as Gandalf, but Arindeth was unclear on Balin's position. He'd seemed vaguely amenable at supper when she'd spoken with him but men often changed their minds when their lords voiced their own opinions. The argument had been going on for a good long while now and Arindeth was about finished. Never had she experienced such stubbornness, not even in her own kin. If Thorin did not wish for her aid, then he would not have it.

Finally Arindeth turned away from the fireplace and headed for the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Bofur asked.

"To tend my horse," Arindeth grumbled over her shoulder, just as she closed the door on Thorin's protests. Outside the night was clear and the stars shone like tiny jewels in the sky. The cool breeze caressed her face and calmed her rising temper. Bilbo Baggins' home, while undoubtedly comfortable on most nights, had grown stifling with so many dwarves packed into its halls. Down in the pasture with Bruidal Arindeth could breathe again. Her horse nipped at her sleeve, asking for a treat and she produced an apple she'd tucked away in her pocket before the dwarves could eat it too. As Bruidal munched Arindeth retrieved a brush from her saddle bag and began sweeping the sweat and dust of the road from Bruidal's chestnut coat.

Bruidal's ears twitched and as he looked up the road, Arindeth knew she was not alone. Her visitor moved quietly with barely a shuffle on the path. She knew he wasn't a dwarf. Dwarves were of the earth and they did not give up that connection easily. Even their footsteps were heavy, as if the brief moment they lifted their boots from the ground was too long to be separated.

"Well, I think you should go," Bilbo said strolled down to the pasture, his hands tucked in his coat pockets. "I won't be going though. There will be weeks of gossip already from this very unwelcome intrusion."

Arindeth found herself smiling and chuckled at the thought of all the fence conversations that would spawn as a result of tonight's party. Those who glared at her on her way through will be scandalized.

"It will certainly be a tale," she agreed.

Bilbo nodded, his assumptions vindicated. Arindeth for her part simply continued her grooming and silence fell over the two of them, the only sounds being the distant hoots of owls, the chirping of insects, and the steady scraping of her brush over Bruidal's coat. The silence seemed to make Bilbo even more uncomfortable.

"Yes, well, have you done this before? Been on an adventure, that is?"

Arindeth nearly laughed at the question. "Yes, Master Baggins, I've been on a few adventures."

"And how—how were they?"

"Difficult and not without their dangers."

Bilbo nodded. "That's what I thought."

"But they were also not without their rewards," she added. Arindeth turned away from Bruidal and looked the hobbit in the eye for the first time that night. "And sometimes, things need doing and it's not a matter of if you want to do them but rather that somebody has to and it might as well be you."

"I'm not a burglar."

"I know."

"But Gandalf told them I was and that is what they are expecting of me. I've never stolen anything, ever."

"Perhaps it is not truly a thief Gandalf is looking for," Arindeth suggested quietly. "I have known Gandalf for some time, and I have never known him to make the wrong decision."

Bilbo seemed to consider her words a moment before sighing heavily. "You're wrong. Gandalf needs a burglar and I'm not it. I'm a Baggins. I belong here in Bag-end."

Arindeth shrugged. She pat Bruidal on the neck and sent the beast off once more. "Come," she bid the hobbit. "Rain is coming."

Bilbo looked up at the clear night and wondered what could make the Ranger think that. But he followed her back to his home anyways because Rangers were strange and who knew how they thought. Upon returning they found the hobbit hole mostly dark and Thorin and his company had retired to the parlor around the fire. The once king of Erebor stared into the fire, his arm resting heavily against the mantle while he smoked his pipe. His eyes were distant as he hummed a tune, remembering a time long past. As more dwarves picked up the tune, Arindeth knew it was a shared memory they thought of.

"_Far over the Misty Moutains cold…_"

She listened to the memory and in her mind she saw the Lonely Mountain the day it was brought low. The slopes burned orange and red and she heard the cries of the dwarves as they fled for their lives, leaving everything behind. She even saw Thorin as he helped his people to safety, soot-stained and bloody with a singed beard. There was so much loss and pain.

The song ended, drifting off into silence and Arindeth once more saw the small sitting room and her companions.

"Get some sleep," Thorin said finally. He turned and his eyes immediately landed on Arindeth. "We leave at first light." He was speaking, but not to her. Gandalf had not prevailed upon him; the wizard could be incredibly persuasive but the stubbornness of dwarves seemed to have won out. Maybe Balin had vouched for her, but Arindeth doubted it. She could not see the wizened old dwarf accepting an outsider so easily. Arindeth turned towards the door and was about to leave when she heard a hesitant cough and found Bilbo Baggins with a candle in his hand and a rather uncertain look upon his face.

"I have a spare room that you are welcome to," he said softly, "since it is going to rain tonight."

Arindeth smiled. Never before had she been offered such hospitality. Perhaps Bilbo could not see why Gandalf had chosen him, but Arindeth was beginning to. Still, she thought of Bruidal out in the pasture and the dwarves in the sitting room and politely declined.

"I must be on my way tonight," she said. "But thank you for your kindness."

Bilbo seemed disappointed at her refusal, which surprised her, but he still walked her to the door and saw her out into the night. Off in the distance clouds flashed with lightning and the gentle roll of distant thunder echoed over the hills of the Shire. Bilbo once more placed his offer but Arindeth still declined. With a last, lingering smile to Bilbo she set off into the night, her dark cloak blending into the shadows and soon he could not even see her. The only indication of her presence was the gentle rhythm of her horse's hooves on the road as they faded off into the night.

"You would do well to get some rest, Bilbo," Gandalf suggested as the hobbit closed the door with a strange expression.

"Yes, of course," Bilbo agreed. "Goodnight, Gandalf."

The wizard smiled knowingly as the hobbit turned and shuffled down the hall to his bedroom.

"Until morning, my dear Bilbo," Gandalf murmured. As he glanced out the low, circular windows by the door, his eyes alighted on a rider disappearing over the crest of a hill. He frowned and gave a small harrumph before turning away and finding his own place to sleep for the night.

To an outsider, the path of a Ranger was erratic and wandering. They were strange, unpredictable folks who would just as readily cut your throat as help you on the road. But that was not the case. As Arindeth travelled away from the Shire and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, she once more took up a path that would take her into the Wild, away from more civilized areas, for it was in the deep woods where orcs and other foul things lurked, always pressing their advantage. It was not long that Arindeth once more found orcs and while she dispatched them presently, her mind worried over the frequency of these encounters. It had not been so long since she killed the party attempting to surprise Thorin Oakenshield and already here were four more. Why the sudden influx?

Immediately it was Thorin and his Company that came to mind. The hobbits were peaceful, and while they certainly made for easy targets, orcs had little interest in the Shire. They knew Arindeth and her people patrolled. Their presence would require a more desirable victim, and so Arindeth's hand fell to the scrap of cloth upon which the Black Speech was written. She had kept her copy to show to her Ranger kin when she next arrived at a camp. But it seemed the information could not wait. Thorin Oakenshield was in far greater danger than he knew.

It was rare for solitary Rangers to come across members of their own kin upon the road; such was the vastness of the land they protected by so few in number. But when a Ranger must meet another, there were ways and places. When Arindeth came across a Ranger path, she immediately set about signaling the next who came along the route. And so it was just three days hence that she met a fellow Ranger. The Ranger's name was Túon and while Arindeth had not met him before, she knew of his reputation. Túon was strong of build, taller than most and as wide as a great oak tree. He carried a bow which only he was strong enough to draw and he could walk for days without flagging. He was an experienced Ranger and while he did not typically travel this far south, perhaps his presence could be explained the same way Arindeth's could.

They sat in a cave on a sodden night around a small fire from Túon's supply of dry firewood. Bruidal stood further back in the cave, munching on oats Arindeth carried for a night such as this when grass was not available. By the light of the fire Túon studied the Black Speech and listened to Arindeth's story of how she came by the message and her meeting with Gandalf at the Prancing Pony. She omitted as much as she could of Thorin Oakenshield and his company. Their quest depended secrecy, and while Arindeth trusted Túon as a fellow Ranger, the fewer who knew of the quest, the better.

At last Túon sat back against the cave wall, his pipe in hand and a deep frown on his weathered face.

"This is grave news. Orcs are not known to be organized. If someone is amassing them, commanding them, the others will need to know."

Arindeth agreed. "My path does not take me near a settlement."

Túon nodded. "I will pass this message along," he nodded to the scrap of Black Speech where is sat on a rock. He had been reluctant to even touch the scrap upon which the words had been written and Arindeth could not blame him. There were not many beyond the orcs who would dare to speak such a dark language.

"Orcs are coming down from the mountains in greater numbers. I slew a number just a few days ago near Hobbiton."

Túon sighed heavily. "Shadows are falling over the world. I fear the watchful peace is ending. We must all be on our guard, now more than ever."

They settled down with Arindeth taking the first watch. It was a relief to have someone else to keep watch for the second half of the night. Arindeth always slept lightly on the road, especially when it was only her and Bruidal. With Túon to keep watch, though, she could finally get more restful sleep. It seemed, though, as Arindeth prepared her bedroll in the wee hours of the morning that she would be allowed no sleep that night. As she settled down on the floor of the cave with Túon at the mouth, there came the distant howl of a wolf. Both Túon and Arindeth leapt to their feet, their hands reaching for their weapons. They listened hard and again in the distance came the long baying of a wolf.

Typically Arindeth cared little if a pack of wolves were on the hunt. It was the way of nature that hunters hunted and she would not interfere. But as the two Rangers listened, both Túon and Arindeth knew that these wolves in the distance were no ordinary pack of wolves. A bay such as this was deeper, belonging to a large animal. Much too large for a common wolf.

"Wargs," Túon growled, reaching for his bow.

Arindeth hurried to saddle Bruidal who was decidedly spooked but holding his ground out of loyalty to his mistress. Only a horse such as Bruidal would stay rather than bolt at the howl of a warg. Wargs were large, vicious wolves, twisted by the dark arts of Morgoth. They were extremely intelligent and malevolent and often in league with a pack of orcs. Arindeth had never come across them before, but she'd seen their work first-hand. A pack of wargs had led a raid on a northern village. The carnage had been like nothing Arindeth had ever seen before. She'd wept over the loss for days afterwards and even now, years later as she listened to the call of the wargs she could see the red blood and the mangled bodies, half eaten and half decayed. Her hands shook as she buckled Bruidal's girth. Túon's much larger hand fell over hers, stopping her shaking.

"When we find them, it would be best to kill them from a far. Close combat with a warg without superior numbers is a sure way to kill yourself."

"I know," Arindeth muttered as she took a breath. Her hands were surer as she finished buckling Bruidal's saddle and tested the girth. She swung up onto his back and readied her bow across her lap. "The rain will mask our scent and hide any sound."

Túon nodded. "Yes and it will work for them too. Keep alert and even if you think they are gone, do not let down your guard."

They agreed upon signals before leaving the warmth and dryness of the cave for the pouring rain and the black night. It took some time for Arindeth's eyes to adjust beyond the light of the fire but soon she could see as she and Bruidal wove through the trees. Túon was on foot not far away. Every so often they paused to listen and each time they could hear the wargs' raucous calls over the rain. As they followed they climbed an ever growing hill until at last Arindeth signaled a stop. Túon moved closer.

"They have camped atop Amon Súl."

Túon cursed. "We cannot attack them there. We are already at a disadvantage with so few. To attack would be to kill ourselves."

"We must still see them. If we can know how many there are, perhaps we will be able to lure them away."

And so Arindeth left Bruidal at the base of the hill, much to the horse's discomfort. She and Túon separated once more, climbing opposite sides of the hill. Above their heads lay the great watchtower of Amon Súl. It was in ruins, but thousands of years ago it was used by the kings of Arnor to watch the surrounding lands. Amon Súl rose higher than any hill in the Weather Hills and could be seen for many leagues around. It was a strategic location; one Arindeth sorely wished the wargs had _not_ taken up.

She could smell them as she climbed, careful to place her feet and hands in just the right place. If she slipped, not only would the wargs hear her, but she could very well plummet down the hill to her death. Above she could hear wargs snarl and snap at each other. Although they typically travelled and hunted in packs, like orcs wargs were not good in large numbers. They would often weed out the weak through violence, and while it could severely deplete their numbers, it also left only the strongest and most cunning wargs behind. At last she came to the watchtower itself and slowly she slipped around a ruined wall, careful to keep quiet and in the shadows. The rain truly was her friend tonight, muting her scent so that the wargs remained ignorant of her presence.

There were at least six wargs present, but that was not all she found atop Amon Súl. There were orcs. At least a dozen of them were camped across the ruins, snarling to each other in the Black Speech. One, it seemed, was their leader, for he sat at the center of the group and when he spoke the others cowered in fear. He was larger than the other orcs and his skin was pale like the flesh of a corpse. Long, jagged scars crossed his body and instead of a right hand he had a vicious hook. One orc said something he did not want to hear and he used the hook to slash the orc's neck open before the wargs descended on the "fresh kill".

Arindeth had to look away and swallow bile as the wargs tore into the orc, splattering blood and gore across the ruins of the once great kingdom. Her bow itched in her hand and she took an arrow from her quiver and nocked it to the string, preparing to shoot. If she could kill the pale orc, perhaps the others would be easier to dispose of, leaderless. But as she prepared to draw the string, she froze. Images of the carnage flashed before her eyes. She remembered a young boy who had been clutching a toy in his hand at the moment of his death. They had only found half of his body, the other half having been dragged away by the wargs. She fought back the sob in her throat and her tears mingled with the rain on her face. She desperately wanted to avenge that village, but she knew as just one against so many she would only end up as they did. And so she took one last look and memorized as much as she could of the group before beginning her descent.

Upon arriving back at the cave with Bruidal trailing behind her, she found Túon had already returned before her. She hastily wiped her face with the inside of her gray cloak, making sure that all tears were gone and she was once more the Ranger she was meant to be. She brought her horse inside and once more relieved him of his burden before she and Túon sat down and discussed all they had seen.

"I have not come across a pack of orcs this large in decades," Túon admitted. "The villages must be warned. They are likely a raiding party."

But Arindeth didn't agree. Instead her mind once more fell to Thorin Oakenshield and his party and the note she had found which still sat on the floor by the now banked fire.

"The pale orc, the largest of the group. I have never seen an orc so big before."

"He is a Gundabad orc," Túon explained. "From the north. Only the largest and the most fearsome of their kind become commanders. Their wargs too are from Gundabad."

"Then it seems the orcs of Morder remain in Mordor."

"For now. But if Gundabad orcs are travelling south, it is only a matter of time before the orcs of Mordor return as well. This is most troubling news."

They sat in silence, each lost in thought. For Arindeth, she fought with herself. Her sense of duty to her people and to the land said that she needed to warn the villages and to gather other Rangers. This orc pack would not be handled by just a few. Yet, her mind kept falling to Thorin and his company. Gandalf had asked her to escort them safely through the lands. While Thorin himself had spurned her help, the presence of the orc pack changed everything. They might have made it through safely, but now Arindeth had the distinct feeling that they were the reason for such a great number of orc and wargs. The company was being hunted. They wouldn't stand a chance unless they were warned at least.

"There is something I must do," she said at last. Once more she stood only now she gathered up all of her things and began packing them away. Bruidal seemed annoyed at the sudden activity that indicated they were about to set off. He huffed and stomped his foot but didn't try to shy away when Arindeth began once more situating his tack.

"Can it not wait?" Túon asked. "The villages…"

"You must warn them, yes," Arindeth agreed. "And I must warn someone else. I swear to you I would help if this was not more important."

Túon only seemed confused by her insistence, but he nodded anyways. "Of course," he said at last.

"Pass the information along but nothing more. Tell no one that I have gone."

Túon did not like the idea of a secret, but he agreed nonetheless. He helped her pack and even gave her some of his own rations, claiming whatever errand had her leaving in the middle of the night would surely not allow her to stop to hunt her own food along the way.

"Indeed not," Arindeth agreed. "The party I seek has quite the start on me."

And so she spurred Bruidal out into the night, riding fast. She needed to catch up to the company. They must be warned.


	3. Chapter 3: Looking Ahead

Ranger of the North

By: Katerinaki

Published: 10/6/2014

Beta'ed: No

Notes: The third chapter, with lots of action, a few lines from the movie but mostly things are from Arindeth's perspective. Also, you begin to learn a little more about our Ranger. Please take the time to comment on the story. I want to make sure Arindeth doesn't turn into a Mary-Sue behind my back. Thanks!

Cheers,

-Katerinaki

Chapter 3: Looking Ahead

It was yet another few days before Arindeth was able to find the trail left by the Company. She searched tirelessly during that time, moving ever eastward and staying off the road. Gandalf was with them and although he did a fair job of concealing their passage, Arindeth was a fair tracker and even a wizard could not hide the wake of thirteen dwarves on ponies. The trail remained stale, however, for some number of days hence before Arindeth at last came across fresh tracks in the Trollshaws, a thick forest of beech woods in the old kingdom of Rhudaur.

It worried her that Gandalf would bring the company this way. The Trollshaws were riddled with caves and thick trees. They were often hideouts for vagabonds or worse, mountain trolls descended from the Ettenmoors. In truth, it had been some time since any trolls had been spotted in the Trollshaws, but with the increase of dark creatures in the west Arindeth remained on her guard as she guided Bruidal through the trees. If she recalled correctly, there was a farm not far away where a farmer and his family lived who often took in weary Rangers. She could camp in his barn that night and perhaps rest peacefully and awake tomorrow refreshed for the continued chase.

Arindeth climbed from Bruidal's back to give the tired horse some rest. As she adjusted her sword and quiver, her eyes spotted something that had been hidden by the brush. She picked her way through the underbrush closer until at last she could see it clearly. Her heart leapt into her throat.

It was a track, large enough for Arindeth to stand both feet inside and still have room to spare. All around her she could see branches that had been snapped and flora crushed underfoot. Something big had barreled through recently and left a huge swath of destruction behind it. She moved on to the next such track and her eyes widened and fear gripped her heart. Quickly she raced ahead, pulling a reluctant Bruidal behind her. He already knew what she was just coming to discover. The tracks had indeed been left by a troll. But there was not just one mountain troll. There were three sets of footprints, pointing the way towards certain death. It was the middle of the night; the trolls would be most active now before they had to hide themselves away lest they be turned to stone by the daylight.

Bruidal snorted in warning and Arindeth spun, drawing an arrow faster than the eye of man could follow.

"Peace! I do not mean you harm."

Arindeth breathed in relief. "Gandalf!" She lowered her bow at the presence of the gray wizard, but did not replace her arrow.

"There are three trolls about. Where is the rest of the company?" she asked urgently, for indeed Gandalf was quite alone as he wandered through the Trollshaws. The dwarves were nowhere in sight and that worried her.

"They made camp at the old farm house. The farmer and his family are gone and their house is destroyed."

Arindeth's eyes widened in shock at the news. "The tracks lead right to it! We must return at once!"

They hurried through the trees, uncaring of the tracks they created now. Simply they tried to return to the company that was most likely in grave danger. They arrived back at the camp to find it deserted. Arindeth's heart ached when she saw the remains of the farmer's once sturdy house. She saw the proud man as he fixed the thatch and his wife tending the garden. Their two sons fought with sticks nearby, hooting and hollering much to the annoyance of their dairy cow. None of it remained, just a collapsed shell that had been overtaken by weeds. All around Arindeth spotted the bedrolls and equipment from the company. A cooking fire burned low with a pot still atop.

"They left in a hurry," Arindeth murmured, noting how some of the equipment had been scattered.

"But not under duress," Gandalf added.

Arindeth agreed. There was no shuffling, no blood or death. No struggle had taken place. Her eyes flitted over the ground, squinting in the low light to find some indication of what happened to the dwarves. She desperately wished her brother was there. He was a far better tracker than she could ever be. She often saw him read the land as others might read a book, his keen eyes missing nothing.

'Take a breath. Listen, look,' he would tell her. She paused a moment, letting the sounds of the forest fall over her. And then she heard the grunts of a struggle and felt the vibrations of heavy footsteps beneath her feet.

"There," she said at last, spotting the convergence of tracks as they headed off deeper into the shaws. Gandalf was immediately with her as they followed the track. Just beyond the line of the trees they came across the company's ponies, many still picketed. A few were free, though, and they stayed close to the others, safer within the herd than apart. Several trees in the area had been uprooted but Arindeth need not track anymore. She could see the light of the trolls' fire and hear their arguing. Quietly and carefully, she and Gandalf stole closer until they were on the edge of the circle of light cast by the fire, watching the very dire situation.

Three mountain trolls sat around the fire and were arguing amongst themselves. Over the fire, a number of the dwarves were slowly being roasted tied to a giant spit. Off to the side the rest of the dwarves were tied up in sacks and though they were struggling to break loose, none seemed to be having much luck.

"We have to help," Arindeth hissed. She prepared to fire an arrow and was already drawing her bow when one of the sacks leapt up. It was Bilbo Baggins and part of Arindeth was proud to see he had decided to come along on the quest. Another part of her, very aware of the desperate circumstances, feared for the little hobbit as he stood before the three very large trolls.

She couldn't hear precisely what he said, but it seemed to give the trolls some pause. Gandalf smiled.

"My dear, I think Bilbo has the right of it. Dawn is approaching."

Sure enough, beyond the tops of the trees the sky was becoming more of a deep purple. It was nearly morning and these three trolls were not safely burrowed away in their hole. She turned back to Gandalf but the wizard had disappeared. Hoping that this was indeed what the wizard had in mind, she drew her bow and shot. She hadn't wanted to hit the troll directly. The arrow glanced off the tough skin, but it did its job. The troll she hit leapt up with a horrendous yowl, rubbing its thigh where her arrow had struck.

"Something bit me!" it complained.

"Shut up!" another growled, smacking it across the head. It reached down to pick up poor Bombur but Bilbo's quick thinking brought it up short.

"No! He's infected. He's got worms in his…tubes."

A second later another arrow hit the first troll.

"I swear, Bert! Something bit me!"

"Would you shut it? They're playing us for fools."

Gandalf's voice boomed out over the shaws. "The dawn will take you all!"

Arindeth caught sight of the wizard as he split the rock upon which he stood and bright, orange sunlight streamed through the break.

The trolls moaned and groaned in agony as the sun burned their skin and hardened it. They tried to hide but it was of no use. Within seconds they stood as nothing more than grotesque statues. Breathing a sigh of relief, Arindeth finally broke through the line of trees. She tipped over the great mugs that still stood by the fire and doused the flames, much to the immense relief of the dwarves still on the spit.

"Arindeth! What're you doing here?" Bofur called from the spit.

"I was in the area," she replied. She took out her hunting knife and began cutting through the ropes holding the dwarves up. Dwalin, a grizzled old warrior Arindeth remembered from the dinner at Bilbo's house, eyed her suspiciously the whole time she sawed at his lashings. But when he was once more on his feet he nodded gruff thanks before setting about finding his weapons and armor.

The dwarves were all in a state of disarray, some only half dressed and most missing their weapons. In the shuffle to find everything, Arindeth joined Gandalf who had found Thorin.

"…and I would not have found you, were it not for the skills of Arindeth," Gandalf added as she arrived.

"How did you find us?" Thorin asked curtly.

"Thirteen dwarves on ponies are not difficult to track," Arindeth replied. "I came to warn you—"

"Thorin, come look at _this_," called Bofur.

Thorin was quick to go after his dwarves, following them not far through the trees with Gandalf, Arindeth, and Bilbo in tow. Arindeth, for her part, was frustrated for being interrupted, but curious to see what Bofur and the others had found so exciting. Just down a ways in a moderately-sized gully they found a cave, hewn from the rocks and ground by the trolls. And indeed, inside was a troll hoard. The stench was unbearable and Arindeth had to pull her cloth over her nose and mouth, even though it did little for the smell. Yet inside, beneath the dirt and muck and remnants of the trolls' past meals was gold and lots of it. Thorin and the others ventured inside and Arindeth followed, though she didn't go too far.

Gandalf and Thorin seemed mesmerized by some weapons they found, full of dust and cobwebs.

"This was not forged by a troll."

"Nor any smith among men," Gandalf agreed. "These were forged by the high elves." At the mention of the elves Arindeth became interested in the finds, but the information seemed to have the opposite effect on Thorin. He went to put it back, a look of disgust mixed with reluctance coming across his face.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," Gandalf snapped, making it clear that he thought Thorin was a fool if he chose to leave the weapon behind. At the wizard's urging, Thorin seemed to accept that perhaps the blade would suit him. Arindeth watched both Thorin and Gandalf chose two of the elvish blades, but all the while she was restless and shifting from foot to foot. For while she had found Thorin and his company, the orcs and their wargs were still hunting them and wargs could run much faster and longer than any horse.

"We cannot linger," she insisted, even as Bofur, Gloin, and Nori buried a chest of gold.

"Bofur, Gloin, Nori," Thorin commanded, ordering them away. He turned to Arindeth, his hand on the hilt of his new blade. "Now, what is so urgent?"

"There are _wargs_ about," she told him. "In league with an orc pack. I saw them on Weathertop and I believe they are hunting your party."

"And why would you think that?"

Arindeth had no chance to answer though. They all heard it and a second later, turned with weapons drawn. It was a great crashing through the trees and it was coming towards them very fast. Arindeth's mind fell back to the great wargs she'd seen fighting on Amon Súl. She tightened her grip on her sword and prepared to defend just as their attacker crashed through the trees.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

An old man in ragged and frayed brown robes burst through the trees riding a sled pulled by enormous _rabbits_, of all creatures. Gandalf recognized the stranger at once.

"Radagast!"

Upon hearing the familiar name, Arindeth too lowered her weapon. Radagast was one of the Istari, the five wizards who watched over Arda. She had heard of him in her travels and in stories before, but Radagast was a recluse, preferring to remain deep in the forest surrounded by his beloved animals than with men or elves. By the crazed look in his eyes, Arindeth might've said he had been deep in the forest _too_ long.

"Gandalf, I came to find you! Something terrible has happened!"

The wizards moved away from the group to converse as the dwarves packed their left-behind things. The whole time Arindeth stood watch, listening carefully. But it was impossible to hear anything beyond the chatter and the clanging as the dwarves re-packed and so she moved away from the main group, scouting ahead. The way seemed clear, at least within the Trollshaws. She was about to return to the group when she spotted yet another sign of trouble.

It was a tuft of hair, caught between some branches, which was not uncommon when animals roamed the wilderness. What worried her was that it was gray and set much too high for a normal wolf. The wargs had caught up with them. There was only one safe place now.

Arindeth hurried to rejoin the group. In the distance there was a howl and Arindeth burst through the trees.

"Warg scouts!"

No sooner had she said it there was a rustle above their heads. Arindeth instinctively drew her sword, stepping between the company and the warg. It snarled at her and leapt, but an arrow flashed past her head, burying itself in the beast's muzzle. She followed through with a slash across the throat and a stab through the belly, ensuring the filthy creature was indeed dead. No sooner did another attack from the other direction, but Thorin's blade intercepted the beast and Dwalin helped finish it off.

"The pack won't be far behind," Arindeth told them.

"Orc pack?" Bilbo squeaked.

"It seems you were right," Thorin conceded.

"Who did you tell of your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded.

"No one," Thorin replied.

"Who did you tell?!"

"Who did _you_?"

"We don't have time for this," Arindeth snapped, putting herself between the dwarf and wizard. "We have to leave now."

"We can't," Ori called. "The ponies, they've bolted!"

"I will draw them off," Radagast declared.

"These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you," Gandalf replied dismissively.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits! I'd like to see them try."

It all seemed like a great risk, but there was little else to do. "If Radagast can draw them off, I know of a safe place," Arindeth said. "It's not far from here. We can hide until they have lost our trail."

All looked to Thorin to make the final decision, but Thorin shook his head.

"What other choice do we have?"

In the distance a warg bayed and the others took up the call. They were very close.

"None," Gandalf replied frankly.

Thorin nodded. "Alright. We'll do it your way."

Radagast seemed positively giddy as he prepared his sled for the ride of a lifetime. Arindeth, for her part, knew stealth would be their best chance. That meant Bruidal could not come. He was too fast for the dwarves on foot and would be too tall for the terrain they would have to cross. The faithful horse had stood his ground while the ponies ran but now she needed him to go.

"_Noro bar, Bruidal_," she murmured in his ear, patting his nose and neck. Bruidal tossed his head in acknowledgement before he trotted off.

"What did you tell him?" Thorin's nephew, Fili, asked.

"I told him to go home," she replied simply. She pulled her bow from her quiver and loosened her sword in its sheath. If all went well, she would not need them. But all never was well, otherwise she would not be with the Company at all.

"Ranger," Thorin called. He gestured to the front of the group. "Lead the way."

As Arindeth passed through the dwarves, they all stared at her, much as they had in Bilbo Baggins' home during the unexpected meeting. Only now she saw very different sort of looks. There was curiosity, but also hope and trust, that she was able to get them through the chase and to safety. Arindeth wasn't even sure she knew all of their names, and yet they trusted Thorin wholeheartedly and therefore they had to trust her too.

"Stay close," she urged them. "Keep together and alert. Try to make as little noise as possible. Stealth is our need. Wargs have excellent hearing and even greater smell."

There were a few nods and many hefted weapons.

"This will be a merry chase!" Radagast declared as he stood on the back of his sled and his rabbits thumped their feet against the ground. "Until we meet again!" And he was off, bursting through the trees and Arindeth and the Company heard the wargs give chase.

"With me," she hissed, and began to jog, staying close to the trees and ever just out of sight. The dwarves mirrored her movements and though they were noisy, off in the distance they could hear Radagast's shouts and whoops and knew the wargs still had their target.

It was a hard and fearsome run that they took, out from the Trollshaws and out onto the hills where there was little cover but for a few rock formations. Each time they came to the end, Arindeth would look out and judge where Radagast was, still leading on the wargs. Thorin and Gandalf kept the Company together, urging the dwarves and Mr. Baggins to keep up, despite the hard running. Arindeth's only focus was on the position of the wargs in relation to where they needed to go. It did not help that, although she knew the way to her hideout, she could not see the proper markers until she was nearly on top of them. They wove through the rocks, armor and weapons clanking and still managed to not be seen.

"How much further?" Thorin hissed in her ear as they paused behind a large outcropping. Radagast still had the attention of the wargs, but he was unwittingly coming closer to their location.

"Not far," Arindeth assured him. "Go. Quickly."

They darted out around the rocks and made it to the far side.

"Ori, no!" Thorin grabbed the youngest dwarf just as he was about to be spotted by the wargs. They huddled in a group, hidden but their luck would not last. In the brief pause they heard the heavy snarling from over their heads. Arindeth, crouched to the height of the dwarves craned her head back and spotted the warg and rider that had taken up position on the very rocks they were using for shelter. She saw Thorin nod to his youngest nephew, Kili, and the dwarf pulled an arrow from his quiver, taking a deep breath. In one swift movement he turned and shot.

Although his aim was true, he only hit the warg in the throat. Arindeth followed the shot, but was not able to silence the rider or the warg as both fell down to rock face, tumbling over the party. The others were on the enemy quickly, bludgeoning them but the screams echoed across the hills and Arindeth knew their stealth was lost. The howls and bays halted before taking up the call again, louder.

"Move! Run!" Gandalf shouted, and they took off, headless of the rocks and trees anymore. Arindeth focused on maintaining her direction as she led the group, trying to spot each marker along the way. In the end, they found themselves surrounded with wargs closing in.

"There's more coming!" Kili screamed.

"Shoot them!" Thorin commanded, his own sword in hand.

"Gandalf!" Arindeth called as an arrow flew from her hands and buried itself in the neck of a warg. But the wizard was nowhere to be found. The dwarves shouted and called out to each other as the wargs closed in. It was then that Arindeth's eyes alighted on the very place she had been looking for.

"Thorin!" she called, gesturing towards the rocks at their back. In that moment Gandalf returned.

"This way, you fools!"

Thorin looked to her but she didn't have patience nor did they have time for questions. "Go!"

The wargs were closing in and Kili and Arindeth were running out of arrows. One already got too close and Dwalin slew it with his great hammer.

"Come on, move!" Thorin shouted, as he and the dwarves retreated. "Quickly! All of you!"

One by one the dwarves disappeared into the rocks until only Kili, Arindeth, and Thorin remained.

"Kili, run!"

The younger dwarf shot his last arrow and started sprinting back towards the rocks, but there was a warg too close. Arindeth reached back and found just one last arrow, sinking it in the warg's head. Kili darted past her and slid down the rocks into the cave below.

"Ranger, come on!" Thorin ordered. He cut down a warg about to attack. Arindeth turned and started running back. Thorin slipped down the rock face just as she was arriving. She turned and swung at the warg and rider at her back, just as a familiar horn echoed in the distance. Her heart lightened at the thundering of hooves and the arrows that flew past, piercing the skin of the wargs. And then the rider of the warg attacked. She couldn't get her sword up in time and she stumbled back but her boots landed on open air. She and the orc fell down the rock face, the jagged pieces scraping her hands as she scrambled for purchase. She hit the bottom hard and the orc landed on top of her.

"Ranger." The dwarves hauled the dead orc off of her and Arindeth at last saw the arrow jutting from its back. Thorin ripped it from the corpse and grimaced as he examined the head.

"Elves," he spat, repeating what Arindeth already knew. He threw down the arrowhead and turned to her. "Are you injured?"

"No," Arindeth replied, shifting her weapons and brushing off her hands. They were battered but her gauntlets had protected her arms from the worst of the damage.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads," Dwalin called from further down the passageway. Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it of course!" Bofur replied.

Arindeth heard a mumbled, "I think that would be wise," from Gandalf as the dwarves set off deeper into the gorge. He shared a look with her, one that had Arindeth worried. Gandalf seemed apprehensive, and he kept glancing to Thorin, as if he were waiting for something. At last they found the end of the gorge where it opened into a beautiful valley, one that Arindeth knew well. She slipped past the dwarves and her heart sang with joy and relief as her eyes at last fell on the one place she felt safe. She turned back to the dwarves, but they did not share her joy. Most looked on in puzzlement, though a few, like Bilbo, seemed stunned. Thorin seemed angry.

"You will be safe here," she assured them.

"The valley of Imladris," Gandalf explained. "But in the common tongue it is known by another name."

"Rivendell," Bilbo breathed.

"Here lies the Last Homely House east of the sea."

Thorin turned on Gandalf. "This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy." He turned on Arindeth. "And you were his accomplice!"


	4. Chapter 4: The Last Homely House

Ranger of the North

By: Katerinaki

Published: 10/11/2014

Beta'ed: No

Notes: This one is a big one. There isn't a lot of action, but there is a lot of information, particularly about Arindeth. I especially would love some feedback on this particular chapter. Are characters OC? Are they believable? Is anything just too much? If you have the time, please leave a comment. Thank you.

**I should also mention that for the purposes of the original character and that her mere presence makes this story an alternative universe, the events of this story take place in T.A. 2956, not 2941 like in the original canon books. Think of it like PJ did with The Fellowship where Gandalf returned to Frodo much sooner than he did in the original book. The time-jump now makes certain other canon events more significant.**

Cheers,

-Katerinaki

Chapter 4: The Last Homely House

"What are you accusing me of, dwarf!?" Arindeth's voice rang out like the crash of thunder over the valley, terrible and furious. The others shrank back against the stone walls behind them, never expecting the quiet Ranger to have such a temper.

Thorin seemed shocked too, but he was a dwarf lord. He'd faced down hordes of orcs, wargs, and even Smaug the Terrible. The wrath of a female Ranger, while horrifying, would not frighten him.

"This was your plan from the beginning," he growled. "To lead us to the _elves_." He spat the name with such hatred and vehemence that Arindeth's temper momentarily vanished. She had guessed that Thorin Oakenshield disliked elves more than a typical dwarf. Dwarves and elves had never gotten along in history. Some say it hearkened back to the Awakening of the Elves and the Song of the Ainur. The dwarves were jealous that they were forced to sleep while the elves became the Firstborn of Illuvatar, and while none of the original dwarves still lived, their envy was passed on through their kin and created discord between the two races.

But Thorin's anger was not the envy of the dwarves. It was a hatred borne from personal wrong and Arindeth vowed to find out why.

"You will find no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf told him firmly. "The only ill will you will find is that which you bring _yourself_."

"You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will! But we have questions that need to be answered."

Arindeth didn't understand what passed between Gandalf and Thorin, but it seemed to be enough that Thorin begrudgingly agreed. But what questions could they have that would force Thorin to put aside his hatred?

"This will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm," he glanced to Arindeth as he said this and she thought she knew who Gandalf was planning to charm, "which is why you will leave all the talking to me."

"This was a mistake," Thorin muttered, but he seemed to accept Gandalf. Still, as the company began their descent in the valley, Thorin would not let Arindeth fall to the back, even though Gandalf was leading the company down the narrow pathway now. He forced her to remain ahead of him and all the while Arindeth could feel his mistrustful gaze on her back.

It had been some years since Arindeth had been in Rivendell. When she had left last, the leaves were multicolored in the throes of autumn. Now they bloomed with lush green leaves and the waterfalls gushed over the rocks and roots, falling ever downwards to the bottom of the valley where the Bruinen roared. Stepping into the valley, she had felt the magic of the elves fall over her. It was easy to lose track of time in Rivendell where there was forever peace and contentment.

Bilbo walked not far from her and he too seemed to enjoy the beauty and tranquility of Imaldris.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Arindeth asked.

"It's not like anything I've ever seen before," Bilbo admitted. "It's so quiet."

The idea of Rivendell as "quiet" with the endless trickling of water and the rushing of the Bruinen amused Arindeth and she laughed. The hobbit seemed confused, but when she explained her mirth he too found it funny.

"So you've been to Rivendell before?"

"Yes," Arindeth admitted. "Many times. And I lived here for a time."

Bilbo seemed both shocked and awed by her admission. "You lived here?"

Arindeth chuckled. "Don't seem so surprised, Master Hobbit."

"But you're a Ranger."

"And Rangers do not have homes and families?"

Bilbo frowned. "I guess I've never considered it. You're the first Ranger I've ever met, to be honest."

It was a long, winding journey down the pathway into the ravine where Rivendell was nestled. At last they came to the entrance, passing between the statues of two elven guards, watching over the bridge. The dwarves looked at every stone like it would suddenly betray them and rise up to drive them out. They glanced up at windows and passageways, expecting to see elven archers with bows ready, but there were none. In fact, Rivendell seemed oddly empty as they gathered on the circle just inside the guardians. By now, someone would have come to greet them.

"Where are they?" Arindeth murmured to Gandalf as she stood by his side and waited. No sooner had she said it did they hear a call.

"_Mithrandir_!" Everyone turned as a dark-haired elf descended the stairs. Dressed in dark blue with a circlet around his forehead, Arindeth recognized him as Elrond's steward.

"Ah! Lindir," Gandalf replied cordially. The two exchanged unspoken pleasantries and Arindeth thought she understood why Gandalf had insisted he do all the talking. Thorin was muttering with Dwalin in Khuzdul and she doubted that they were saying anything polite.

"_Mileth, it has been some time."_ Lindir greeted her with a gentle smile.

Arindeth nodded. "_Indeed it has."_

Lindir returned to address Gandalf, interested in the dwarves with him. But like an elf, he endeavored not to show his curiosity. "_We heard you had crossed into the Valley._"

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," Gandalf replied. For once it seemed the wizard would not speak in riddles.

"My lord Elrond is not here," Lindir said reservedly.

"Not here? Where is he?"

And then they heard the hunting horn again. It was the same one Arindeth recognized from their fight with the wargs just before they entered the valley. Gandalf gave Lindir an amused, knowing look as they all turned to see a party of horsemen returning from the hunt. But it seemed the hunters were not slowing as they approached.

Thorin shouted in Khuzdul. "Close ranks!" he ordered.

The dwarves shoved together with poor Bilbo Baggins at their center. They hefted weapons, shouting at each other and growling, preparing for a fight. Arindeth and Gandalf stayed away. Both had recognized the white, blue, and gold banners of the House of Elrond. They stayed back with Lindir as the riders circled the dwarves, pressing them closer still. At last the horsemen slowed and Arindeth spotted Lord Elrond astride a black steed, seeming exhilarated from his hunt.

"Gandalf," he greeted.

"Lord Elrond." The wizard stepped forward, laying a hand over his heart as he bowed. "_Mellon nin._ _Where have you been?"_

"_We've been hunting a pack of orcs. We slew a number near the Hidden Pass."_

Elrond dismounted and greeted Gandalf warmly. "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders." He hefted a cruel orc sword as he looked beyond Gandalf, pointedly at Arindeth. "Something, or some_one_, has drawn them near." He handed the sword to Lindir, who took it with a grimace, and set a hand on Arindeth's shoulder.

_"Your horse returned riderless. I feared the worst."_

"_Goheno nin"_ Arindeth murmured.

"That may have been us," Gandalf said, gesturing to the company of dwarves and Mr. Baggins. Seeing that it was at last time for formal introductions, Thorin stepped forward flanked by Dwalin and Nori.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I do not believe we've met," Thorin replied tersely.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed. He made no mention of _you_."

Elrond did not seem offended by Thorin's brusque response. Indeed, he seemed rather amused by it all.

"_Light the fires bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests."_

"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" demanded Gloin.

"No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food."

The dwarves conferred for a moment before grudgingly agreeing.

"_Take our guests to clean up,"_ Elrond told Lindir. The steward did not seem to relish the task, but he nodded and led the dwarves off. Arindeth doubted even an elvish bath could get the stench of the road off the dwarves.

Arindeth and Gandalf lingered behind with Elrond. When the dwarves were at last gone, she turned to Lord Elrond and he enveloped her in a hug.

"_Bruidal?"_

_"Is safely in the stables. What happened?"_

_"We were being hunted. I first spotted the orc pack on Amon Súl. I met Gandalf and the dwarves in the Trollshaws."_

"And _why_ were you in the Trollshaws?" Elrond asked, giving Gandalf a sharp look.

Gandalf shrugged. "Simply passing through."

"The dwarves' ponies bolted at the warg howls. We had to lead them here on foot."

"Yes, there were a few questions I was hoping you might answer," Gandalf added. "Perhaps after dinner?"

"Very well. You both know the way."

"Of course. _Hannon le, mellon nin._"

They parted ways and Gandalf and Arindeth retreated to the guest wing while Lord Elrond continued on.

"How much do you plan to tell of Thorin's quest?" Arindeth asked. Both she and Gandalf had since bathed and were making their way to the terrace where Elrond often hosted summer meals. Gandalf was still in the same gray robes but Arindeth had been lent a simple blue dress. With her long, dark hair neatly combed and the dirt and grime from travel and battle washed from her skin, she could have been mistaken for an elf maiden.

"Thorin does not wish the true nature of the quest to be revealed."

Lord Elrond met them on the way and offered an arm to escort Arindeth.

"_You take after your mother more each day,"_ he told her. _"Have you spoken to her yet?"_

_"Ú."_

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf said, changing the subject. "Though I'm not dressed for dinner."

"You never are," Elrond replied with amusement. They climbed up to the terrace where the majority of the dwarves were already seated and being serenaded by a flute and harp. Bilbo was among the main group of dwarves while Thorin and a few other honored guests awaited Lord Elrond at the high table. The dwarves very openly gaped at Arindeth as she arrived and took a seat by Gandalf at Elrond's table. They all waited for Elrond to begin eating before starting their own meals.

When on patrol, Arindeth was used to hard bread and dried meats, supplemented by anything that she could find in the wild, usually nuts and berries. In Imladris the tables were set with food grown in the gardens and so as Arindeth ate her vegetables she looked down at the other table and found the dwarves rifling through the green leaves with confusion and disgust. She smirked into her goblet of wine.

"I was wondering, Lord Elrond, if you could perhaps look at these weapons. They are of elvish make, but we know little else of them."

Gandalf gestured to Thorin who handed Elrond the sword he'd found in the troll hoard. The elf lord examined the ancient sword, admiring the script on its length.

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver. A famous blade forged by the high elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." He handed the blade back to Thorin who nodded politely, the first bit of civility Arindeth had seen from the exiled dwarf lord.

"And this is Glamdring," Elrond said, taking Gandalf's sword. "The Foe-hammer, sword of the king of Gondolin. It was thought lost during the Fall of Gondolin, over six thousand years ago. How did you come by these blades?"

"We found them in a troll hoard off the Great East Road," Gandalf replied, "shortly before we were ambushed by orcs."

It was the second time the dwarves' journey had been mentioned and Arindeth could tell Elrond was more than a little suspicious.

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?"

Thorin stood and muttered a low excuse before leaving. Elrond watched him go.

"Thirteen dwarves and a Halfling. These are strange travelling companions, Gandalf. And you have drawn Arindeth into it."

"These are descendants of the House of Durin, noble and decent folk," Gandalf insisted. "They're surprisingly cultured with a deep love of the arts."

Arindeth thought he was laying it on rather thick and Elrond didn't seem to believe any of it. The dwarves themselves only confirmed Elrond's doubts when Bofur jumped up and led them all in a tavern song! Soon food was flying and Arindeth had to duck or risk being hit in the face with a wad of potatoes. Gandalf looked sheepish and Elrond and the other elves seemed downright befuddled. Arindeth laughed. There was little else to do as a roll sailed by her head and more potatoes landed with a _splat_ by Lindir.

That night Arindeth slept peacefully to the gentle trickling of a brook by her window and the soft chirping of insects. She slept deeply and through the night for the first time in months and when she woke in the morning it seemed that the strains and struggles of the road were gone. She breathed anew and wandered down to the kitchens for a small breakfast with a light heart and a contented smile on her face.

After eating she continued on to the stables where Bruidal awaited her. The stable master had seen to it that Bruidal's coat shone and he'd received plenty of oats and probably more apples than he should have, judging by the way he snuffled at her hands and tunic, looking for a treat.

"It's good to see you again, my friend," she told him, patting his nose and rubbing his neck. Her tack was nearby and had been cleaned and polished. It was not nearly as beautifully crafted and ornate as the elvish tack around the stable, but the supple leather shone in the golden sunlight. She took Bruidal for a ride through the valley and when she returned she found Bilbo Baggins wandering Rivendell with the same contented smile on his face she'd seen when they first caught sight of the hidden valley. It was easy to love Lord Elrond's home. It was harder to leave.

"Enjoying yourself, Master Baggins?" Arindeth called.

Bilbo turned and seemed surprised to see Arindeth. "Oh, you stayed."

She laughed as she climbed down from Bruidal's back. "And why wouldn't I?"

Bilbo's face flushed and he began stammering. "I didn't mean—that is to say I wouldn't—you didn't—"

"Breathe, Bilbo," Arindeth teased. She patted the hobbit on the shoulder.

"It's just that you didn't stay that night at Bag-End. I thought you would be on the road once more."

"Even a Ranger needs to rest. It has been a long and difficult patrol."

Bilbo walked with her back to the stable and helped her groom Bruidal and clean her tack. It was clear the hobbit had little experience in either task, but he listened well and what he lacked in prior knowledge he made up in earnest effort. When they finished, the two of them roamed Rivendell. Sometimes they would come across a special place and Arindeth would tell Bilbo a story from her past. Most of them included her elder brother.

"Is he a Ranger as well?" Bilbo asked.

"Of course," Arindeth replied. "Though I could not tell you where he is at the moment. We haven't spoken in nearly two years."

"Why such a long time?"

"Our paths have not crossed. He is often on the road when I return. He travels more frequently than others."

Bilbo nodded. As Arindeth looked down, she could tell he was bracing himself to ask a more difficult question. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly are you looking for? It's just that, I've heard of Rangers but nobody seems to know much about them or what they do," he added quickly. Then he muttered about manners and tried to take the question back but Arindeth reassured him it was a fair question.

"What do you know of the Rangers?"

"Only what folk say. Most think you're thieves and vagabonds. Some think you're evil sorcerers. But I don't think any of those things," he was quick to assure her.

"I've heard the stories, Bilbo," Arindeth replied. "Over two thousand years ago, most of the west was considered the kingdom of Arnor. Did you know?"

"I have read some history," Bilbo admitted. "It was a kingdom of men."

"Yes. The last king of Arnor was Eärendur. Upon his death, his sons divided the kingdom into three, Arethdain, Cardolan, and Rhudaur. Arethdain was ruled by Eärendur's eldest son, who still claimed kingship over all Arnor. But the divide weakened the once great kingdom and the numbers declined through war and disease. A thousand years later the Witch-king of Angmar attacked and while he was beaten, the fighting had ruined the north. Those who remained scattered and became wanderers under Aranarth, who set aside the crown and took his place as Chieftain of the Dunedain. Since then, the descendants of Aranarth and his people, my kin, have roamed the west. We remain watchful and endeavor to protect the peace that our ancestors ensured with their demise."

Bilbo drank in the knowledge like water from a clear, cool lake. "That is quite the heritage," he said at last. "Are not the Dunedain known for their longevity? How old are you?"

Arindeth laughed. "I am only twenty-three, my dear Bilbo. Young, even by the standards of my kin, let alone by those of a hobbit or dwarf."

Only twenty-three? Bilbo himself was nearly sixty-six, middle-aged by hobbit standards. The Ranger who stood before him seemed so much older. She had seen the world and looked back with weathered and wearied eyes.

"Do you have any other family, beyond your brother?"

"My father was slain by orcs when I was still very small. My mother lives in a Dunedain village. I have not seen her for some years."

As they spoke they allowed their feet to roam. It was not until Bilbo looked up and commented on a statue across from a great and terrible mural that Arindeth realized which part of Rivendell they had come to.

"This is the Battle of Dagorlad, isn't it?" Bilbo asked. He seemed to study the mural before turning to the statue opposite. The Shards of Narsil lay on display, held by a woman, shrouded and cloaked.

"Yes," Arindeth replied. She did not look at the mural. Rather her eyes remained fixed on the Shards and a strange gleam passed over her eyes. Bilbo did not see it, curious as he was. Her eyes stayed to an empty bench at the end of the hall and her heart ached, remembering a time when she and her brother would listen to stories by their mother of Númenor and the men of old. Much of Arindeth's knowledge of history she learned in this way, her vivid imagination conjuring up great men in gleaming armor riding into battle and noble banners flying in the wind. She knew now that battle was nothing so noble and valiant but she still held the memories fondly.

Bilbo left to join the others for luncheon but Arindeth chose not to accompany him, despite Bilbo's insistence that she would be welcomed within the company. Instead she took a long, circuitous route back to her own accommodations. She never made it back, however. Along the way, Lindir stopped her.

"_Mileth, my Lord Elrond requests your presence in the library."_

The steward did not stay to escort her, but rather hurried off. Since the dwarves had arrived the day before, he seemed to constantly wear a flustered and harried expression, bordering on panic. Those unfamiliar with elves may not see it, but Arindeth had known Lindir for some time. She'd never seen the steward so anxious. Curious as to why Lord Elrond was requesting her, Arindeth turned back and immediately set off to the library.

Elrond was considered a lore-master, well-versed in history and philosophy. He was often sought after to answer questions and his knowledge was astonishing. His library reflected only a small portion of that knowledge, but was still considered one of the most comprehensive in all Arda. Only the libraries of Minas Tirith and Orthanc could compare. When Arindeth was young and only beginning to learn about the world beyond her home, she'd spent a good many hours in the library, reading of different cultures and times long past. The library was also where she and her brother had lessons.

Upon arriving, she was unsurprised to see Elrond seated in his usual chair by a desk. She was shocked when she spotted the man standing next to him.

"Estel!" He turned around and grinned. He looked haggard and he had the beginnings of a beard. The Estel she'd seen two years ago had been clean shaven, young and bright-eyed. This was a very different man, except he was still her brother.

"Mileth," he replied, bounding across the room to pick her up and spin her in a circle. He was filthy from the road, but Arindeth hardly cared as she embraced her brother for the first time since they'd last been in Rivendell together.

"I've missed you," she murmured in his ear.

"And I you," he replied.

Elrond smiled as he watched the two siblings reunite. It had been too long since they'd been together.

"Why are you here?" Arindeth finally asked, pulling away. "Elrond didn't send for you, did he?"

"It was Túon," Estel replied. "I had stopped in a village when he was returning. He told me what you saw and gave me the orc message. I came here looking for answers and instead they told me you were here with a party of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and Gandalf! I think we have much to speak of."

"Indeed, we do," Arindeth agreed. But then she wrinkled her nose. "First you need a bath though. You reek, _toreg_!"

He laughed, only hugging her closer which Arindeth made a big show of protesting. In truth she was relieved that Estel was back. There was much she wanted to speak to him about, and even more she wished to ask him. There were a great many decisions to make and Arindeth felt conflicted. But perhaps Estel could help her reach a solution. He may be only a few years older than her, but he was wise beyond his years. His judgment mattered. Not only was he her elder brother, but he was also her Chieftain.


End file.
